suckah punch
by deliriousnight
Summary: Her strength is not for the world. But when the world wants it, she's gotta run for it. The fact that her gorgeous ex-boyfriend and a hot, mysterious bartender are running with her just makes everything a lot more complicated. SasuSaku, KibaSaku. AU.
1. prologue: coz there is no escape

I glared daggers at the girl on the stool next to me. You would glare daggers too, if you had been flirting with a super hot bartender, whose attention was suddenly whisked away from you by some whore with a face caked with make-up, and clothes so tiny that she was practically naked. I mean, I suppose nobody really wore any clothes to a bar—I was the exception to this rule being the dutiful person that I was—but still.

Who the fuck gave that girl permission to butt her fat ass into my flirtation?

Not me, that's who did.

If it had been any girl other than me sitting on that stool, she would have been dead by now. But it was me, so of course I took my drink with me somewhere else and sat in a dark corner of the room, ignoring the girl and the bartender, therefore effectively not beating her down.

Maybe I looked like a sissy to anyone else, but I don't like starting fights. That is not to say that I'm a peaceful person in the slightest. But I can never resort to physical violence.

And I do mean never.

"Sakura?" I looked up to see Kiba staring down at me, bemusedly.

Kiba Inuzuka. One of the most wanted bachelors of Konoha and Alleged Ex-Boyfriend.

It's something to add to my resume, really, the fact that I went out with The Kiba Inuzuka. "What are you doing here?"

"Wha' does it look like 'm doin' 'ere?" Huh. My words were slurring. I must have been drunker than I thought. Kiba continued to stare. "It looks like you're sitting in a corner, drinking something, and doing nothing."

"Nu-uh!" My denial was forceful. "'m doin' somethin'. 'm plottin' ma revenge on tha' skank o'er thar."

Kiba followed the direction of my finger to The Bitch, who was still flirting with The Bartender. My Bartender. The one who I had been chatting with so prettily before she came around. And I thought we had really clicked too!

"Well." Kiba looked confused, and ran his hand through the wild brown of his hair. "What'd she do?"

"She stole my bartender."

"Your bartender?"

"Yeah. She stole 'im."

Kiba slumped down next to me, and grabbed my drink outta my hands. I flailed for it, and ended up in a position across him that would have seemed very sexual to strangers. My arms were extended towards the cup, my boobs were pressed against his legs, and my ass was probably right up in his face. But I still wanted my drink.

I felt Kiba freeze up though, and used it as my advantage, snatching for my glass again. He recovered in the last minute, though, and managed to keep it up in the air and away from me.

"Sakura," he began, his voice thick with tension. I wondered why. I mean, we broke up awhile ago—we should have been okay with this kinda thing by now. Not like I cared (though that might have been coz I lost all my inhibitions, like, four drinks ago). "I think you're done drinking."

My head shook ferociously. "No! 'm no' dooonee. Sti' have t' plo' agains' tha' whoreee. Need th' alco-alco-alco-what's-it for ma plottin'. Gimme ma drin' baaaack." And then we launched back into a game of Drunk Girl Trying To Snatch Her Tequila Back From Her Ex-Boyfriend And Her Ex-Boyfriend Not Giving Her Any Chance To Get It Back.

They should try fitting _that_ on one o' them boarding game lids.

"OI, COUPLE'S HAVIN' SEX IN THE CORNER OF THE ROOM, LET'S GO WATCH."

Some idiot wants to watch two people getting it on. Personally, I have nothing against exhibitionists. I'm just not one. I prefer closets and bedrooms to crowded bars and parties.

"You don't have any shame, do you?" I looked up for the person who said this. It was The Bitch. The Bartender was standing next to her, as well, with an impassive look on his face. Which I translated to "This chick was uber-boring, why did you have to leave me with her? I would much rather prefer flirtin' with you."

Ferseriously. I read it in his eyes. His beautiful dark eyes that look like a swirl of all different colors in the light. Red, yellow, purple, black, blue, and some other colors that I'd probably be able to name if I wasn't drunk as fuck right now.

"Hey! Pink-haired byotch!" My head snapped in The Bitch's direction again. Well, now. _Someone_ wants to pick a fight, don't they? "You should look at a person when they're talkin' to you—" And risk burning my eyes out? Yeah, I don't think so. "—otherwise people might assume somethin' about you." Oh, fuck no. She did _not_ just go there.

I would have shown her just how much of a "byotch" I was, if it hadn't been for the restraining grip that Kiba suddenly had on my wrist. I glanced back at him incredulously. He had stolen my drink and now he was holding me back from bitch-slapping a hoe who really deserved it? No wonder I broke up with him.

Or maybe he broke up with me...Damn. I don't remember. Either way, he wasn't gonna stop me.

"Lemme go," I hissed into his ears. To all our witnesses, it probably looked like I was whispering something sexy into his ear. Or biting it. Or kissing it. Take your pick; they're all incorrect, anyway. "I ain't takin' no shit from some wannabe queen o' the club."

There was a chorus of "good one!" and "oooh's." Whoops! Guess I wasn't talking as quietly as I thought.

The Bitch's face had turned an unattractive, blotchy red. I glorified in its hideousness. Yeah, I know. I'm terrible. Isn't it amazing? "I am sooo not a wannabe, you fucked up freak. Seriously. Ever heard of gettin' a room?"

It was at this point that I realized that the previous comment about the couple having sex in the corner of the room was referring to me and Kiba and the easily misleading position we were in. No wonder the entire club was staring at us...

Oh well. Might as well give 'em something to stare at. I grinned deviously, my sharp canines—though, they had nothing on Kiba's—peeking out of my mouth. Then I twisted around, so that instead of me lying across Kiba, I was sitting on his lap. My arms went around his shoulders, my hand holding the back of his neck, partially because it was all part of the show and partially because I was on the verge of losing my balance.

And if I was gonna embarrass myself at a club, I'd rather it not be because I sprawled across the dance floor with my panties in clear view of some good-for-nothing perverts. And my Ex. And The Bitch.

(The only person I wouldn't mind showing my panties to would be The Bartender. Even though he is clearly not interested in me. Even though he _clearly _should be.)

So I clutched Kiba's neck tightly, and looked around at the crowd. My grin widened. Kiba had frozen again, and I felt his breath against the—exposed—nape of my neck. It was burning. Not an uncomfortable sensation; if anything, it felt pretty nice. Just not a sensation that I'd like to be feeling from my _Ex_ Boyfriend. He was my _Ex_, after all.

"What the fuck are you doin'?" he whispered to me. The tension in his voice had reached its maximum. Usually, Kiba's pretty easy-going, so the stressful tone he spoke with would have worried me, but I was not as oblivious as a person should probably be when they're drunk—or as oblivious as I _might_ have been acting.

Basically: I was well aware of the fact that I was giving my Ex a hard-on. (I had been playing stupid when I told you I wondered why he was all tense. I'm really _not_ that stupid in actuality, _thankyouverymuch_.)

Which is probably me breaking some rule in the Break Up Bible or whatever it's called.

But then again, I was never very religious. "Chill, babe," I said, easily. "I got this."

"Got what, exactly?" Kiba retorted. "Your ass on my lap—and, basically, my penis? Because if you think I find this pleasurable, then you're more off your rocker than I had originally suspected."

"Oh, shaddup, Dog Boy," I snapped, flapping my hand at him. He dodged out of the way before it could hit him. This time, it was a definite that nobody could hear us. They were all leaning in, trying to eavesdrop, but I didn't give 'em a chance. "I'll let ya get home t' Akamaru in a mo-moment. Jus' play along fer now, would ya?"

Without listening to his reply, I turned back to our audience. But mostly to The Bitch.

"Rooms are overrated," I said. "I got a boyfriend, so I'll flaunt it t' the world, and get some while 'm at it. Sorry if ya gotta problem with that, seein' as ya don't have one. A boyfriend, that is."

"You," Kiba said, through gritted teeth, and into my right ear—which was mightily distracting, let me tell you—, "are incredibly aggravating. You think I don't have somethin' better to do then act out some play with my ex-girlfriend?"

The smile on my face didn't drop. "You're the one who stopped me from jus' beatin' her to a pulp. Not my fault that ya gotta take responsibility fer that."

Kiba shook his head and muttered something along the lines of, "bat-shit crazy woman, nearly as bad as Hana." I took it as a compliment, simply because I was both drunk and awesome and _my name is Sakura so I am just allowed to, okay?_

"YOU GODDAMN BYOTCH," yelled The Bitch herself, and would have tried—and failed—to punch me. Except there was a restraining grip on her arm too. And it was My Bartender's grip.

He came to my rescue! I _knew_ I wasn't just imagining the fact that we clicked!

"That's enough," he said. "There are rules against fighting, and I'd appreciate it if you got out now."

The Bitch's face scrunched up, tears forming at the edge of her eyelids. "But-but-but—" I almost felt bad for her. "She started it!" Until that.

Bartender's face was still stoic—I think it had remained stoic the entire night, even while I was talking to him—when he said, "I didn't see _her_ trying to punch anyone."

She looked like she wanted to argue more, but the look on his face must have stopped her. Giving me a dirty glance, she huffed and stormed out of the club.

Finally.

"There's nothing to see here, guys," Bartender was saying to the peanut gallery. "No girl fight, no nothing. Just a drunk off their ass couple who are grinding against each other in a corner, on the ground. Forget it, alright?"

And, just like that, the crowd dispersed.

Bartender rubbed his temples and glanced at us. The dark of his eyes were still swirling around with the other colors. I could stare into them and get lost forever.

"Would ya gerroff me now?" Kiba reminded me, snapping me out of my ogling. I scrambled up as quickly as I could, and stepped as far as I could away from him. Wouldn't want Bartender to the think I was taken, would I?

(Though, in retrospect, it was kinda late for _that_.)

Kiba watched this with a raised eyebrow. He looked at Bartender, then back at me, and scowled a bit. But he didn't say anything. Just stood there and watched.

"Um." I was tongue-tied—a first for me. "Thanks fer puttin' a stop to that, 'fore it got dirty."

"It's my job." Well, now. Thanks for making me feel stupid. I searched my mind for anything else to say, but I wasn't getting anything. Probably realizing this, Bartender turned on his heel, and walked away, shaking his head the entire time.

"It would have gotten dirty," Kiba put in. "But not coz o' that girl. You're lucky I was here. And I don't expect a thank you or anythin'. I'm just sayin'. If you forget yourself this much—" He looked me, up and down. I probably looked like a demented pink-haired weirdo. "—then you could seriously hurt someone. And even if that someone might be a bitch, you know you don't wanna do that, Sakura."

"Wow," I said. "Never knew the day would come when I got lectured by The Kiba Inuzuka. Who's the one who pounded Sui's watery guts out when he stole yer precious steaks from yer freezer?"

Kiba scowled. "They were _expensive _steaks and they tasted amazing, Sakura. You should know, considerin' you ate nearly half the box _with_ Sui. And don't try and turn this on me. This is all 'bout you, whether you like it or not."

There was no one in the world who knew that better than I did. Did he really think I wasn't aware of the danger I posed to everyone when I got into a fight? Did he really think that I didn't know that if I could've put that girl in some serious danger, along with everyone else at the club?

Clearly, Kiba did not know me as well as I thought he did.

"'m goin' home," I said, tiredly. I wasn't gonna stand around and argue all night with him. All I wanted now was to go home and have a nice shower. To let the hot water pour down on me, and make me forget whatever _could_ have happened tonight. Because, even if it could've happened, it didn't and that's the only thing I can look to when I'm desperate and practically suicidal. "'m too tired. This ain't the right time."

The stare Kiba gave me was searching. It was like he was seeing through me, to the coward inside, to the little, innocent girl who had always just wanted a normal life, to the woman who'd never get that—never even _deserve_ such a thing. "You're right," he said, finally. "You look worn out. I'll take you home."

Before I could protest, he put in, "Don't even think 'bout rejecting it, Sakura. You look like shit. And you're so tipsy, that you'll probably tip over on the sidewalk where some bum could harass you while you're unconscious—listen to yourself! You're talkin' slang like you're not the Grammar Nazi you are. I'll drive you home quickly, and you can hop into bed faster, anyhow."

"Ya don't have anythin' to do?" I asked, helplessly hoping he'd miraculously remember he did have something to do.

He chuckled and shook his head. "I don't got anythin' to do, hon. Just lend a hand to a pretty ex-girlfriend of mine who really looks like she needs it."

"Seems like yer forgettin' the 'ex' part."

"Not forgettin'. Just...callin' it a truce tonight. I'm not gonna try and get you in bed or anythin', but let's say that you also can't reject my help. I know how you are 'bout that. As if we haven't been friends for the last couple of months. Who's to say its odd when you're helpin' out a friend?"

The luminescent lights through Kiba's sharp features into high relief. They were too striking for me to ignore, and I stared at them with a longing that I should definitely not have felt. Had I already forgotten The Bartender in favor of my Ex? "Me, when that friend is someone whose tongue has been down your throat, and who's seen you naked. A multiple of times."

Kiba did not get a chance to respond to this comment because, right then, a dozen police sirens sounded outside the bar. The music stopped, and everyone halted in their "activities," to run to the windows and look outside. Curious as to what the commotion was all about.

Curiosity was nothing like what I felt, in that moment. All I could feel was fear. It rushed to me like a baseball to some guy's balls; made me wince, made me want to drop down on the floor and cry. An odd analogy, I know. But I was still drunk, so it is allowed.

I did not wince, I did not drop down on the floor, and I did not cry. Instead, I stood completely still, gazing at the entrance of the club with a terror that was probably alarming. But terror is always alarming. Always unexpected, whether you know it's coming or not.

My situation was the former. I knew it was coming, knew it for a long time. I just put it behind me, and tried to ignore it, like a pesky fly. Only the flies'll keep coming now. I'm absolutely sure of it.

"Sakura?" Oh God. I had forgotten Kiba was here. He knew about everything. Everything I had decided to tell him over the two years we had gone out, and the years before that where we were close friends. He knew enough to stop me from beating up random chicks at bars. He knew enough to keep a close eye on me, in case my temper got the best of me, and some innocent bystander got seriously hurt.

_He knew enough._

Which means there was no choice. He would have to run with me. Otherwise he'd get hurt, and no matter whether or not I thought our relationship had restored to the close friendship it had been before we started dating, I couldn't see that.

"Sakura, what's wrong?" There was an urgent tone to his voice now; he had realized that I was not just in some drunken haze. "What's goin' on?"

I inhaled deeply, sucking all the air I could in. I needed it. "We have to go."

"You'll need a ride."

My breathing hitched. I wasn't looking at Kiba, but I knew that was most certainly not his voice. It wasn't as scratchy; more smooth than it was raspy, though I could hear even the slight roughness in it. I, of course, recognized the voice. It had asked a certain Bitch to get out of the club, just a few minutes ago.

I didn't feel tipsy anymore. There was no instability to my mind. My body and my voice? Those were a different matter.

Swiveling around swiftly, I looked up at the Bartender. His eyes peeked out from underneath the bangs of his raven-colored locks. It was a peculiar haircut, like a chicken's butt, but he made it look good, so I didn't dwell on that.

He was leaning against one of the stools, looking impossibly cool. There was no change from his outfit; he was still wearing his uniform—a black vest, over a long sleeved white shirt, a black tie loosely slung around his neck, and black pants. He looked exactly as he had two minutes before.

Except. There was a fire in his eyes that hadn't been there before, a fire that made me burn like Kiba's breath against my neck did. And he was also dangling a pair of keys around his fingers nonchalantly.

It was against my better judgment, honestly. Kiba was already involved, I knew there was nothing I could do about that but take him along with me. People would be on top of him, if only I ran.

But was there a need to bring a complete stranger into this? Into something that they had no business being in?

One voice was telling me that I should just run for the front doors with Kiba, and hope for the best. The other voice was telling me to take the chance with a stranger, sneak out some secret way that only he'd know about, and actually manage to escape.

They were both options based on chance, and they could both be equally dangerous.

Kiba looked confused when I glanced at him. He hadn't caught onto what was going on yet. But he was going to, soon enough. Before that, I'd have to decide.

I looked at the Bartender again. Then at the entrance of the club, piled with spectators wanting a view of the police cars and whatever drama-action-whatever was going down. Not knowing the drama-action was all in the place they were standing. I looked back at the Bartender. Then I looked at his keys. They were black, and kinda matched his eyes.

"Let's go."


	2. o1: coz we're all running here

My Bartender's name is Sasuke. Sasuke Uchiha. And he is beautiful and wonderful and was totally not into that Bitch at all.

Not that he told me this. But I assumed it because, uh, yeah, who did he offer his help to sneak out of the bar to?

ME. OH YEAH. KABOOM. THE BITCH'S FACE EXPLODED.

"What are you doing?" Kiba wanted to know—which felt like dejavu. He was sitting in the passenger seat, his head turned towards me, eyebrow raised.

I huddled up a bit more. I had to sit in the back, sunk into the seat, so that nobody who looked at the car would see me. And I had snagged a black jacket (which was probably Sasuke's) that was on the seat of the car and worn it, hood up.

(Pink hair. It was _way_ too unique. Kind of annoying when you didn't wanna be noticed.)

"Folding into myself," I whispered back, paranoid by all the cars near us.

His other eyebrow rose. "Hot," he deadpanned and I threw my phone at his face. He caught it, then looked back at Sasuke, who was focused on driving. Driving fast that is.

Not so fast that we were out of the parking lot yet, but that was mostly because of all the authorities and cars surrounding us. Still. I had experienced a burst of his speed and I was already anticipating the next one.

Yeah. I like it _fast_.

"Where 'xactly are we goin'?" Kiba wanted to know.

Which I could understand. I mean, Sasuke was _technically _a stranger (never mind the fact that we had been married in our past lives). And you don't follow strangers. Even if they have candy. Or really pretty eyes. Or a smirk that makes you want die because it overwhelms you with _feelings_ (yes, he did smirk at me in the bar when I was flirting and I died inside and went to heaven).

Apparently, you still don't follow, even if the aforementioned is true—

"—to Suna," Sasuke said, and I nearly lurched out of my seat.

Suna? SUNA? No. No way. Yeah, I would gladly follow Sasuke anywhere, but I'd tell me aunt and uncle and cousin and friends _first_.

And why _Suna_?

Kiba was shaking his head vigorously. "Nu-uh. Stop the car and let us out."

"'fraid I can't do that," Sasuke replied. He sounded bored and completely unaffected by Kiba's threatening tone.

Kinda hot, not gonna lie.

"And why can't you do that?" Kiba demanded, his voice tense.

Which was also kinda hot. I mean, when Kiba got all serious, when we had been together, _I _got all hot and bothered. I blame it on the fact that he only ever gets like that—or _used _to get like that—with me.

"Hn," Sasuke said. The cars in front of us began to clear out, so he floored it. We were out of the lot faster than you could say "sexybartenderman." "Coz."

Kiba glanced back at me, as if he wanted me to jump into their _incredibly stimulating_ conversation that seemed to be leading to the implication that we were being kidnapped.

"Suna?" I repeated absently. Did I know anyone in Suna? I closed my eyes and concentrated on having a brain blast.

(Jimmy Neutron was my childhood, ok.)

Oh. Duh. 'course I do!

….I'm probably still drunk.

"Ok," I said, opening my eyes. "Suna is fine. Not the best weather there, but we can deal."

I think Kiba's eyes popped out of his face.

(That can't be healthy.)

"You're _agreeing _to this dick's plan?" Kiba asked, incredulously. "Are you still _drunk_?"

I grinned. "Yes to both questions. But Suna's still cool—not _literally_, but it's a good place to go."

Especially now. Now was the perfect time to go anywhere. Anywhere but here in Konoha where shit would be going down, where I was a bigger danger than anywhere else in the entire fucking _world._

Kiba looked like he wanted to strangle me.

(Ha. I wish him good luck with_ that_.)

"What?" I said, defensively to his you're-a-lunatic-what-is-wrong-with-you look. "I have peeps in Sunaaaaa." My drawling tone did nothing to change his look. In fact, it just enhanced the disapproving feature of it.

This from the guy who regularly spiked the punch in dances and laughed when he got the fucking detention because he had been drunk and had declared himself Ruler of Alcohol.

Then Sasuke cut in. "You just said _peeps_." There was no inflection in his voice to indicate it but I could, somehow, tell that he sounded surprised.

Kiba stared at him, startled by the fact that he had said something other than "hn," "coz," and his plans to kidnap us. "Yeah," Kiba said. "What's wrong with 'peeps'?"

"Nothing," Sasuke said. "I just would've used a different word."

"What word?" Kiba wanted to know.

"….Bros," Sasuke answered, after a moment. He sounded reluctant too, like he was opening his entire world to us. If he did open his entire world to us, I totally called dibs on his dick. Ferseriously.

Kiba thought about this—not about the whole dibs thing but about what Sasuke said—, eyes looking at the ceiling, chin in his palm. Then he turned to me. "He's right," Kiba said, gravely. "You should've used the word _bros_, not _peeps_."

I rolled my eyes. _Boys. God_.

"Whatever," I said. "Either way: _off to Sunana we goooooo!_"

Both guys said, simultaneously, "No. Never a-fucking-gain."

They were clearly just stunned by the awesomeness of my voice. Haha.

"You know," I said thoughtfully, "I just realized this, but you two make a really cute couple. I'm gonna go ahead and start shipping you now."

Kiba face-palmed, Sasuke went quiet and I continued to grin.

"Sakura," Kiba said, trying to sound patient. "I thought we went through this when you told me you shipped me with Sui. I am _straight_. I like _boobs_. I groped yours on occasion, I thought you'd 'member somethin' like that."

My face went up in flames. Like, god, yeah, I'm pretty fucking shameless, but that does _not _mean I want Sasuke to know about my history with Kiba—forgetting about the incident in the club. "Kiba," I hissed, "shut _up_, would you?"

"Why?" Kiba wanted to know. My eyes flickered over to Sasuke, and he followed my gaze. His face went blank for a second, and then he shrugged and turned around.

Nobody talked for the rest of the way.

* * *

><p>I fell asleep during the car ride and when I woke up, I was nursing a nasty hangover. It was at this point I realized that I hadn't called anyone to tell them where I was going and my aunt would probably notice and go on a drunken rampage coz she tends to do that a lot.<p>

So I called Naruto.

"_Where the fuck are you?_" he demanded worriedly, as soon as he picked up the phone. With good reason too, I guess.

"On my way to Suna," I said, positioning myself on the seat, so that I was lying down.

"_What the fuck,_" Naruto said. "_Do you know how fucking worried Ero-sannin and Bacchan and I are? Wait. Did you just say Suna?"_

"Yes, I did," I replied, feeling guiltier by the minute. I mean, how could I forget about them even for a minute in this entire fiasco? "There was a….situation at the club last night. The police showed up."

"_WHAT," _Naruto yelled on the other end. "_Why?"_

"I don't know," I said, pulling at my hair frustratingly. "I really don't. I didn't do anything, but suddenly there were sirens and I had to get o_ut _and Kiba was with me and then there was a bartender who offered us a back-way out and now we're in his car on the way to Suna, coz Naruto, I don't think it's safe for me in Konoha anymore."

"_Oh my god_," Naruto said. I could just imagine him slumping on the sofa, head in his hands. "_You're serious, aren't you, Sakura-chan?"_

"Deadly," I said, wishing I was anything but.

Sasuke was awake, since he was, you know driving. He had been all night, which I didn't understand. He should've been at least a little tired by then, but he had the same look on his face.

Maybe the determined glint in his eyes was what was propelling him forward.

Kiba was in, like, Death Sleep Mode. He wouldn't have woken up for anything 'cept, maybe, the smell of food.

"_I was so scared, Sakura-chan_," Naruto was saying._ "I thought, I thought you were dead or something and I was about to go _crazy._"_

"I know," I said, rubbing my head with my palm. "I should have been more considerate and I'm sorry, Naruto. But please. Please promise me you won't follow after me. You know what that'll look like. And it's too much of a liability if _both_ of us are together."

"…_.Fine. But call me every day, at least twice."_ He sighed, long and low. "_I'll go tell Bacchan and Ero-sennin._"

And he hung up. I looked at the phone worriedly. Naruto wasn't a depressed person—he was the exact opposite, in fact—but he only ever sighed when he hadn't been catching enough sleep.

If I had waited another hour, he probably would've gone on a rampage. He already had once, years ago, when he thought something had happened to me. And, while Naruto doesn't have the same Problem as I do, he has got his own shit to deal with.

Dammit.

"Do you need some sleep or somethin'?" I said groggily to Sasuke. I actually just wanted to be in the driver seat to play with the stereo, which wasn't on. And to feel like I had at least _some _control over my life. But mostly because of the stereo. "You've been driving for _hours._"

"'m fine," he said, not sounding fine at all. Well, at least, not to me.

I rested my head on the part of the driver seat, near his head. That way I had a nice view of his face. If I leaned in a bit more, I would be close enough to kiss him….

Bad Sakura. Focus.

"I don't understand," I informed him. "Why you're doing this for us, I mean? Well, for me. I mean, Kiba doesn't really have anything to do with this."

There was a slight quirk to one side of his mouth when he smiled. It was fleeting, and then he went back to his Blank Face. "What is _this _referring to exactly?"

"Ah," I said, grinning. I was so tempted to brush the back of his spiky hair. I bet it would feel really good if I ran my hand through it. "Inquiring minds want to know, right?"

His eyes flashed to me and he answered, "No. They don't."

I pouted. I was hoping that that could be the start of a beautiful conversation which would lead to him realizing how charming I was and then proceeding to ask me for my hand in marriage. "Then why'd you ask?"

"Coz I didn't think you'd answer."

"Why'd you ask a question you didn't think I'd answer?"

"Coz you seem like the kinda girl who's cautious around people she doesn't know."

I mulled over this. This is pretty much true, for the most part, actually. But I have always made an exception for Pretty Boys with Beautiful Eyes and Beautiful Half-Smiles Whose Names are Sasuke.

But glancing at him now, I saw that half-smile again. He was probably unaware that he was making it or that I was looking at him, so I could see it. But it made me realize something. He didn't ask the question because he wanted to know. No, no.

I had a feeling Sasuke Uchiha already knew a lot, maybe too much, and maybe, just maybe, that was the reason that Kiba and I weren't the only ones running.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok. So. It has been a really long time since I updated and I apologize. If there are any differences in the writing from the first chapter, I apologize, coz my writing tends to be alllll over the place, just like I am.**

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	3. o2: coz i think i need a sanctuary

Let's get this straight—I know some famous people in Suna. To be more specific, I am related to some famous people in Suna. It's not something I blurt out on dates at fancy restaurants or anything, even if my date thinks I may feel out of place at said restaurants because I wasn't brought up on _high ends_.

But it's still there. I mean, I know famous people everywhere, but mostly the amount is concentrated in Suna.

My four cousins are those very same famous people. Kankuro, Temari, Gaara, and Sasori. The first three make up the capable Sand Siblings and the last is a cousin of the other three as well and a well-known painter.

It's midday when we arrive in Suna and the sun burned the hell through my eyes—like, hey, sorry, forgot to bring my sunglasses, dude—and that's where I told Sasuke to head first.

He shot me this angry, irritated glare, which surprised me, but was probably because I kind of ordered him and, despite what he obviously thought of himself, he was not Superman and needed sleep and was not above getting cranky without it. But I didn't take it back and I didn't ease up on my orders. I told him exactly where to go, and exactly how to get there and I did it quickly, muttering rapidly under my breath. Like someone's following us and we need to get to a safe house as soon as possible.

But that's how I treat _everything_ nowadays. With suspicion and paranoia and no trust. It's alleviated a little when I'm drunk—it's still there, but less so—but when I'm stone-cold sober, the paranoia comes back, full-throttle, and it kind of crushes down on my insides, makes me want to get drunk again, and soon, because I hate that feeling _soso_ much.

Especially when I start to look at Sasuke like that too.

Based on the revelation that I'm not the only one who's running here, I felt like forcing Sasuke to elaborate on _his_ reasons, just to know he's safe to be around, not some guy hired to follow me and get me to trust him, only to expose himself in the end, when the farce is over, and hope for a Happy Ending.

Yeah, I watch the movies.

Except, unlike those movies, the Happy Ending won't be coming, because the other party is Sakura Haruno and Happy Endings are a concept that have never truly been meant for me.

But I'd still _like_ to trust Sasuke and not make him into a Bad Guy when, maybe, he's not; maybe he's just a guy who got into some trouble and needed some way out and I provided the perfect escape. And it makes no sense if I force his story out of him and refuse to tell him mine.

Which, of course, I will do.

So, I chose not to voice out any of this. I just continued directing Sasuke, my voice soft. I was worried Kiba's snores were drowning it out, except I couldn't bring myself to speak louder because my head hurt and even the snores were making me feel like pressing myself to the seat and my head into my hands, where it would be cradled forever and I wouldn't have to look at anything ever again. Including the sun.

But Sasuke heard everything. He swerved at the right places and he picked up on my urgent tone too, picking up on speed, even though we were already going so fast that I was breathless before. It made me kinda worried, because now we're in village limits and there are way less constraints when you're on some deserted highway for so many hours.

Said constraints are only put back when you're in villages. Meaning, of course, the police.

But somehow, Sasuke managed to keep the cops, and us, out of the news. I couldn't help but be thankful for this and, when the both of us got out of the car, I looked up at him and felt the need to kiss him very very badly.

Call it my hormones, yeah?

We left Kiba snoring in the car. I pulled his hood over him, so no one saw him sleeping and decided to rob the van. With the hood up, he looked relatively intimidating. Definitely intimidating enough to keep potential robbers out of the way.

Sasuke didn't ask me anything; he didn't ask me who we're meeting, where we are, how I knew how to get there, if I'm bringing him to his supposed execution. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He just followed after me, practically blind, as I head into the large apartment building we had stopped at and into the elevator.

"You're not a very curious person, are you," I commented, pushing the seventh floor button and watching the elevator doors close.

"Didn't we have this conversation an hour ago," he said, not looking at me. He stared up at the ceiling, like it was ever so much more interesting than _moi_. "You're not going to answer my questions. I know that. You know that. Why would I ask you any."

"Huh," I said, chewing on my bottom lip thoughtfully. "Curiosity doesn't just disappear though. I'm asking about your personality. Are you burning with the desire to know _everything_, but just don't want to ask?"

He looked down at me, his eyelashes longer than a boy's should be. "Curiosity killed the cat, Sakura."

I loved the way my name sounded when he said it. He rolled the _r_ sound, a little, pulled up the _u_ sound, a little, and stopped short on the _a_ at the end. It was the sexiest way I had ever heard someone pronounce my name. "The cat had nine lives, Sasuke." I doubted that his name came off of my lips as sexily as they came off his, but I hoped for the best.

"There are some things," Sasuke said, moving his gaze away from my face and walking out of the elevator as the doors opened, "that I have learnt, I am better off never knowing."

I had to hurry out the elevator before it closed on my hair.

* * *

><p>Temari opened the door. She wasn't who I had expected to open it, because I thought she would have been at work by then, but then I realized that I'm a fucking moron and that it was a fucking Saturday, of course she was home.<p>

"Sakura," she exclaimed happily and pulled me into her arms and wrapped them around me and I'm glad that she was happy to see me. I hoped she's stay glad but I thought that that'd be wishful thinking. "What are you doing here?"

I threw a glance over my shoulder at Sasuke, who was right behind me; close enough to touch, but not touching. Somehow, Sasuke understood those aspects of my personality, even after having only talked to me when I was drunk and those aspects didn't apply anymore. "I—," I started hesitantly, scratching the back of my neck, "I got into a little trouble back home."

Temari's eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion and she glanced over at Sasuke, having finally noticed him and evidently thinking of him as the Bad Guy. "What kind of trouble?"

"Don't worry," I assured her. "He's safe. He got me out of where I was and over to where I needed to be, don't worry." I didn't believe any of this, because, after all, I knew nothing about Sasuke, which meant that he was about as safe to me as I am to everyone when I tried to cook.

Temari sighed, putting her hand on her hip, and I noticed the apron she wore, which she only ever wore when _she's_ cooking. It made me realize how hungry I was and the thought brought a growl out of my stomach, the likes of which you've never heard. Her sigh stopped halfway through and she exploded out laughter, which, I deemed to tell her, was way louder than my growl at been.

She shook her head at me, still laughing, and gestured us both into the apartment, practically shoving us at the sofas in her living room. "I-I'll get you two s-some lunch," she tried to get out, _still_ laughing. I would have punched her if she wasn't family. And if I didn't know my own strength and how dangerous it would be if I actually did such a thing.

I gobbled up the food she brought us. Sasuke took his own sweet time, obviously wanting to savor it, the way those prissy rich kids at my old high school did. It got me inexplicably angry and made me reach over to his plate and nab a couple of rice balls from it.

He snatched them back, unperturbed, and ate his food faster, after that.

"What's with all the laughing, sis? You know what we've told you, it's _not_ attractive on you and no guy's gonna ever want to fuck you if they hear it once—" Kankuro stopped his trek to the kitchen, when he sees me, stilling. His hood was on and so was his face paint, and I honestly couldn't blame Sasuke if he thought Kankuro was a thug or something. But then, this huge smile grasped his face, as if he couldn't stop smiling and he walked over to me and picked me up and swung me around. Another person who was happy to see me.

I'm more popular than I thought.

"What're you doin' here, Saku-sweets?" Kankuro asked in this doting voice he always uses on me, because he absolutely adored me. I suppose with good reason too.

When I was sixteen, I took a trip to Suna for the summer with Naruto, and we stayed at my cousins' place. Then Gaara ended up getting kidnapped by these weird-ass fucking _gang members_ and Kankuro got injured trying to stop them from taking his brother away.

Naruto went after Gaara and I was going to too, until I saw the horrible state they had left Kankuro in and all the blood he was losing. So, using a first-aid kit I kept in my bag for emergencies—because I was a conscientious freak, still am—and the trim medical training that I had been through with my aunt, I stopped the major wounds, wrapped them up nice and good and waited for the ambulance I had called to come to take care of the rest.

They said that Kankuro would have dead if I hadn't done what I did for him. And he's never let me forget that I saved his life.

That's one life I've improved at least. Amongst the many others the government believed I was gonna ruin.

"I got into some trouble," I replied and at his worried look—much more worried than Temari's had been actually—and the glance he gave Sasuke, I added, "He helped. He's _fine_. But I'm not."

It was at this point that Temari got back from the kitchen, apron taken off, ready to listen, and Gaara and Sasori both decided to come through the door.

Now, both my red-headed cousins are a bit _dangerous_. Gaara, more than Sasori, but that's because Gaara is of the same…._variety _that Naruto and I are and wasn't treated nearly as well here because everyone knew about it. Opposed to Naruto and my case, because no one knows about ours' unless they dig around a lot. Which, evidently, someone had finally done.

But when Gaara came into the apartment, he focused first on Sasuke and the fact that he didn't know him, and the fact that he was a stranger, and the fact that Sasuke didn't look like some harmless guy—I mean, I noticed his muscles, I didn't think no one else would—had him not noticing me, dropping all the grocery bags in his hands and _lunging_ at Sasuke.

I was the only one nearly strong enough to stop him, so I grabbed his arms and twisted them around his back. He wrestled against my hold, reaching, reaching for Sasuke, who sat there staring up Gaara with his eyes dark and blazing and impassive; as if he could take on the entire world, by just sitting there, staring it down.

Gaara didn't recognize the familiarity of my hold at first, or the fact that someone was holding him back, and not many people could do that, anyway, and he hissed out, in the low, raspy voice he has, "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my fucking apartment?"

Sasuke smirked sexily and put his plate down on the coffee table. "I'm Sasuke Uchiha. And as Sakura here keeps repeating: I'm _fine_, I _helped_, I got her where she was supposed to be; unmistakably here. To you all."

* * *

><p><strong>notes: HEY I UPDATED THIS IN LESS THAN A YEAR. And Saku-sweets isn't drunkkkkk. Sorry if I messed up on the tensing, but I'd like to think I am dropping all these hints around, and now I just gotta piece it together for you guys. Unless you decide you can do it yourself ;) Not that it's necessary; after all, I am out of control and maybe this story is too and I'd like to pat myself on the back if I have at least some unpredictability.<strong>

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